


he sees you when you're sleeping

by impossiblepluto



Series: have yourself a fluffy, whumpy christmas [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, Found Family, Gen, Jack Dalton is Riley Davis' Parent, Pre-Series, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), Teenage Riley Davis, and neither of them are prepared for how much the other means to them, gratuitous singing of Santa Claus is coming to town (by springsteen)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21539728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: "Now I think I realize that I could see how much I was starting to mean to her, and it freaked me out a little bit. Didn't think I was man enough for the job."A pre-series look at teenage Riley Davis and prospective dad Jack Dalton
Relationships: Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016) & Riley Davis
Series: have yourself a fluffy, whumpy christmas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1552330
Comments: 31
Kudos: 50





	he sees you when you're sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, I'm overwhelmed by your excitement! Thank you! I can't wait to share the next few weeks with you. After watching 1x11 "Scissors" for inspiration, I wanted to dive deeper into the early days of Riley and Jack's relationship. The focus is on them the next couple of days

Riley’s not sure what woke her. 

She’s cocooned in blankets, thick and heavy. Her eyelids droop, so relaxed and snuggle-ly that she almost drops back into sleep without identifying the disturbance. Except then she hears a muffled voice yelling from downstairs. Her eyes fly open and her breath catches. She freezes, listening intently, heart hammering, preparing to burrow further under the blankets or maybe dive under the bed until she recognizes the voice as Jack’s. 

She can picture him, sliding around the kitchen in his socks and fluffy hair singing into an egg whisk. Normally the sight would make her smile, though she’d duck her head and be careful to hide her mirth under an eye roll and snarky comment.

This morning she feels a surge of anger race through her veins. It’s not directed at him. Not entirely. 

It’s not his fault. He wasn’t around before, how could he know that sometimes she hears him puttering in the house and for a moment her heart thuds in fear and chest aches with dread.

It’s happening less often as she becomes more comfortable with him in the house. 

He would be heartbroken if he knew. 

Maybe he does. He’s careful to always announce his presence in the house, his footsteps fall harder than necessary to let her know when he’s coming around a corner, and he sings pretty much constantly, like his own personal cowbell to let everyone know where he is. 

She's not scared of him. That would be ridiculous. From the moment she met him, she trusted him, though she didn't want to. Wanted to find something wrong with him. A reason to hold him at arm's length.

It’s not fair that even after two Elwood-free years, he’s managing to spoil her relationship with Jack. That Elwood can put a damper on her laughter when Jack starts to joke around or sing too loudly. 

Not that Jack couldn't be intimidating. He has a commanding presence that makes people take notice, follow his lead, act on his directions. And he's strong. There's a part of her that almost wishes Elwood would try coming around again, because she's sure Jack wouldn't stand for it if he started knocking her mom around again. Jack would put Elwood in his place. Then maybe they could be a real family. Her, mom, and Jack.

“Hey, Ri’ you know what time of year it is?” His muffled voice getting closer as he ascends the stairs.

"Jack, do you know what time of day it is?” Riley mutters to herself. Soft morning light filters through the curtains, but it’s still entirely too early for Jack’s shenanigans. She lets her head fall back against the pillow and hopes that maybe if she ignores him, he’ll get tired and leave. Somehow, despite all his chattering and energy, he’s able to sit still for hours and just wait and watch. 

It’s nice when she’s at a school sanctioned activity, or friend’s house, he’s impressively patient and willing to wait in the parking lot for her until she’s ready. 

She’s less grateful about that patience when he’s trying to win her over. 

And he’s been trying to win her over for the last two years. On some level, she appreciates it. She has friends whose moms’ boyfriends ignore them completely. 

She never feels like an afterthought with Jack.

But sometimes, the effort Jack puts forth reminds her that she’s not really his. And she wonders if it might be easier to be ignored than reminded that she doesn't belong to him.

 _“You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout I’m telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town. Santa Claus is coming to town. Santa Claus is comin’ to town._ ” He’s practically yodeling the last few notes.

He’s not going to give up. This is going to be one of those mornings where Jack’s annoying endurance is going to outlast her own.

_“He’s makin’ a list. He’s checkin’ it twice. He’s gonna find out who’s naughty or nice. “_

Riley groans, pulling her blanket over her head. 

_“Santa Claus is coming to town. Santa Claus is coming to town. Santa Claus is coming to town.”_

With a frustrated growl, Riley slings back the blankets on her bed. She jumps from her bed, footsteps thundering against the floorboards as she stalks to her bedroom door and flings it open to face her… to face Jack. Santa hat on his head and he continues warbling the last note.

“Jack!” Her dark eyebrows are lowered in irate disbelief.

“Riley!” His dark eyebrow waggle in excitement. “You been good this year?”

“What are you doing?” 

“Springsteen.” His brown eyes are sparkling with mirth and mischief. 

She rolls her eyes at him with a level of annoyance only a fourteen year old girl can achieve. “It’s the first day of Christmas vacation.”

“I know! First day of Christmas vacation and lots to do, including watch Christmas Vacation.”

“What time is it?” She asks, voice rising with disbelief at how awake Jack is. She knows that her cozy bed is lost to her. 

“Seven.”

She covers her face with her hands and shakes her head. “In the morning? Why? Why are you awake?”

“Cause he sees you when you’re sleepin’. He knows when you’re awake,” Jack starts to sing again. “And that’s pretty disturbing if you think about it,” he pauses with a concerned look on his face.

“Jack,” Riley whines.

“He knows if you’ve been bad or good. So you better be good for goodness sake,” Jack claps out the staccato drumbeat between words. Then lowers his voice down to an impressive baritone and echoes the words. “You better be good for goodness sake.” 

“I want to be sleeping,” Riley pouts. 

“You’re gonna sleep away your whole vacation.”

“It’s the first morning. It’s only seven.”

“Come on Riles, you and me, first day of Christmas break tradition, breakfast at the diner.”

Riley tosses her head back, looking up at him long-sufferingly. 

“I got you some reindeer antlers,” he holds them out to her, wiggling them.

“I’m not wearing those.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” 

Riley groans. She’s not going to win. Jack isn’t going to let up. He’s too excited about this bonding moment between them. “I’m not wearing the antlers.”

“You’re gonna look silly if I’ve got a hat and you’ve got nothing.”

She smirks. “I think I’ll take that risk.”

* * *

She makes Jack take off the hat. 

It’s just after seven in the morning on the first day at Christmas vacation at a retro diner that no one except Jack would think is cool, but she can’t take the risk that someone from school might see her. 

Jack made quite a hit at the fall carnival. He’s a very popular parent with the PTA. More parents are likely to volunteer for chaperone duties if Jack has also signed up. It’s embarrassing. She doesn’t understand it, and she would prefer that the Davis family fade back into obscurity. 

The sweet smell of cinnamon rolls and aromatic hot coffee make her stomach rumble as soon as Jack pulls open the door for her. His hand is warm through her coat, pressed between her shoulder blades, keeping her close, and guiding her through the crowded diner. A path materializes before them, people tripping over themselves to get out of their way. She watches out of the corner of her eye. Jack has a presence that makes people give him the right of way. 

They’re seated at a corner table, Jack’s back to the wall, and she takes the seat perpendicular to him at his request. 

“Always be aware of your surroundings,” he’s told her more than once. It’s kind of sweet, this protective nature he has. A little overdramatic maybe, but it makes her feel protected. And she knows her mom is safe when she's out with him. That’s not a feeling that comes easily for either of them. 

She scans the menu quickly, already deciding on french toast, then looks up at Jack, studying his profile. 

His attention is only half on the menu in front of him. 

She doesn’t know how she knows this. 

She knows he could tell her the description of any breakfast entree on the page without a scrambling search for it, but she knows he could also tell her how many people are sitting at the counter, who needs a coffee refill, what they drive and who’s late for work.

He told her once he needs to be able to read people. Separate those who are ready to pull the trigger from those who don’t know what they’re dealing with.

With regards to bathroom tile, of course.

And she scoffed at him. The most exciting part of his day is helping housewives choose between the colors with names like luscious loquat and sumptuous kumquat, who act like the wrong hue will destroy their homes and end their marriages, when there’s no discernible difference in the palate to her eyes. It must make for painfully long days.

Maybe that’s why he makes an excursion to the grocery store or the diner an adventure, where any occupant might secretly be an international assassin.

Or maybe he watches too many movies. 

The waitress takes their orders. Riley turns over the coffee mug with an eyebrow raised at Jack, not quite asking permission to order coffee with her meal. Her mom always warns that it will stunt her growth and yellow her teeth and that a fourteen year old doesn’t need to drink coffee.

With a wink, Jack turns his cup over too, inhaling deeply as the waitress fills their mugs. Jack rarely drinks coffee, but will indulge with her when it’s just the two of them having breakfast together. 

It’s the kind of secret tradition that would be part of the plot of a Hallmark movie, and should make Riley roll her eyes with disdain. She pushes that thought aside, wrapping her hands around the mug and watching the bustle of the busy diner. 

“How many fry cooks you think are back there?” Jack gives a nod toward the kitchen and gesturing with his coffee cup.

“How would I know that? They’re behind a wall.”

“They keep passing by the window to put the orders up and grab new ones.”

“And how am I supposed to keep track of them? I can only see like one at a time.”

“Count the hair cuts.”

“Aren’t they all wearing hairnets?”

“Yeah, but see if you can find a way to identify them. Like this guy, he’s still rocking a mullet like it’s eighty-seven.”

“I wouldn’t judge too hard. I saw your high school graduation photo.”

“I never had a mullet.”

“No, but you had floppy nineties hair, which is even more embarrassing.” 

“That’s only because it’s not old enough to feel nostalgic yet. Just wait.” 

“I suppose I should just be glad you didn’t have something really embarrassing like frosted tips,” Riley shrugs, sipping her coffee and watching the fry cooks pass by the window. 

“I’m looking forward to the day where I get to watch your kids make fun of the hairstyles you chose when you were sixteen.”

Riley bites her lip. Jack’s always been so careful when he talks about the future. Delicate in his wording, deliberate in what he’s promising. She focuses on the window, pretending she didn’t hear his slip of the tongue, but holding onto those words. Burying them in her heart. The idea of Jack one day taking her kids to this very diner, asking them to count haircuts or try to remember how many stools at the counter were empty when they walked in is better than any gift that she’ll open on Christmas morning. 

“There are five,” she whispers.

“That’s my girl,” Jack praises with a grin.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks 12percentplan for the diner idea.
> 
> The "count the haircuts" comes from the pilot of Leverage.
> 
> I listened to "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" by Bruce Springsteen on repeat for like 4 hours while writing this.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
